Jan 29, 2010
I was going through old back-up discs today looking for a piece I wrote on Bastard Pop years ago when I came across a file named "dirty_story.doc". Sure enough, it was something I'd been working on (and reworking) for years. I had written and rewritten it for years, eventually reworking it into The Houseguest.
I'd like to think that my writing has improved over the years but I won't be so presumptuous.
It wasn't easy escaping a bad marriage. Lydia felt that she had to drive clear across the country to get out from under the oppressive hold of her husband. She felt horrible doing so, but ended up turning to her sister, Pam, for help. Lydia needed some place she felt comfortable staying and as she and her sister had grown up in the house where Pam still resided with her nuclear family.
It brought back a lot of good feelings for Lydia to be staying in the basement where she had had hosted several slumber parties as a teen (after her mother and father had the basement redecorated from something reminiscent of a Turkish prison to something a bit more chic). She got along very well with Pam's husband and her wonderful son, Louis. There was the usual strife in the household that came naturally to any family, especially with Louis getting ready to leave for college in the fall and Pam suffering from a bad case of "empty nest syndrome." Pam began feathering her nest with a series of book clubs, pinochle nights, and evenings out with her husband. This gave Pam a lot of nights alone in the house to curl up with a good book and relax – something she never felt capable of doing around her soon-to-be-ex.
Pam tried helping out around the house now and then, knowing that she could be an ungracious guest but wanting to be otherwise. She had done more than her fair share of chores while married and wanted a bit of a break from the drudgery. However, she found a lot of solace in vacuuming. She loved the white noise of the machine and the "patterns of cleanliness" she made on her sister's relatively new carpet.
A few weeks into her stay, Pam was vacuuming Louis's room when an odd thought struck her. This had been her room when she was younger and was curious if Pam had ever found the hiding spot where Lydia used to stash her pot and other sundry items unfit for parental notice. Overcome with a wave of nostalgia, Lydia knocked about on the wall of the room until she found the loose floorboard. Opening it up, she found that her stash spot was still in good condition and was currently in use by the room's current occupant. Aghast at what she found, Lydia sat on the floor, the sound of the vacuum still filling her ears, as she slowly started going through the new contents of her old hiding spot.
Now 18, she expected her nephew to have a pornographic magazine or two at his disposal but Lydia didn't expect to find them there. Moreover, she didn't expect to find the kind of magazines that she did. While she pictured her nephew as being more of a Penthouse kid or even a Playboy snob, she never had seen anything like Domina Express—a magazine filled with personal ads from leather-clad women looking for "slaves." As if it couldn't get more disturbing, as she leafed through the pages, Lydia found that some of the ads were marked with red pen and that there were letters of response from these ladies between some of the pages. Louis was actively seeking a relationship with these women.
Feeling that she had stepped far across "the line" with this perusal of such personal material, Lydia quickly snapped out of her daze and returned the scene exactly as she found it. She tried to go back to vacuuming but her mind was a jumble of photographs and descriptions from that magazine. Even after she put the vacuum away and sat down to read she couldn't concentrate on her book. No matter how many times she read a line, it always seemed to say, "Dominant Mistress seeks submissive slut for service."
She would never look at Louis the same way again.
As time went on, Lydia couldn't help but study what she had always considered an aberrant sexual preclusion. She wanted to know why anyone, especially her nephew, would find the idea of leather and spanking to be pleasurable. An avid reader, Lydia began to discover the answer in print. While it looked like Lydia was reading The Red Tent, she was actually reading The Story of ‘O'. When she'd hold up Memories of a Geisha, inside would be a copy of Macho Sluts.
Each day when the postal carrier would arrive, Lydia would flip through the letters, usually finding a note or two for her nephew. She could smell the cheap perfume on them. Soon, she started looking at the outgoing missives that Louis would leave in the mailbox. She inevitably found envelope after envelope addressed in his odd handwriting to different women. What really concerned her, though, was the shape and feel of the contents. She could swear that Louis was sending them money.
Convinced that her nephew was paying these women for their letters, Lydia took another look in the hidey-hole. Examining a few of the new letters inside the magazines pages revealed, sure enough, that Louis was now receiving instructions to send out $20, $30, even $50 to these women as "tribute" to them. Doing some fast arithmetic, Lydia calculated her nephew shelling out a sobering amount of money on these women. All of the money from Louis's summer jobs that should have been going into his college fund was paying for these foul smelling, poorly written, and unimaginative messages.
Something had to be done. However, Lydia blanched at the idea of confronting her nephew with everything that she had learned through snooping. Luckily, another quick flip through of the magazine provided Lydia with her solution.
The next month when Louis pored over the latest copy of Domina Express, he thought he had found the answer to his prayers. Finding himself completely captivated by the idea of Domination and submission, Louis knew that his life wouldn't be complete without being able to submit to a woman. Even when he was going out earlier in high school, he had felt compelled to ask his naïve Catholic girlfriend to handcuff him. From her reaction, he learned that he had a long, tough road ahead of him but also knew in his heart that he needed to be submissive the way a flower needs to bloom – it was his nature.
Most of the ads in the latest Domina Express were repeats from the previous issue. However, one new ad immediately caught his eye. More than the photograph of a stunning woman (dressed in a well-cut black dress, facing away from the camera), it was the words of the ad that stirred him. It took him five drafts before he felt he had a letter suitable for such a wondrous ad.
The prey had gone for the bait. Within a week, Lydia had Louis's first letter—sent via a mail forwarding service. Now she could put an end to her nephew's self-destructive behavior. She'd have him send her money, putting it into a fund for his college education. When the fall came, she'd be able to present Louis with what she'd secretly refer to as "The Submissive Scholarship." With this first letter, she also managed to get more of an insight on her nephew's desires. Such a raw look into Louis's aspirations proved as penetrating as it was disconcerting for as she read Louis's obviously heartfelt words, she felt herself beginning to feel oddly aroused.
When it came time to respond, Lydia felt oddly at a loss for words.
That's it - just a fragment. I guess I was also at a loss for words.
Jan 26, 2010
HNT Courtesy of Having My Cake And Eating It Too
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Prefect’s Prerogative - When I neglect this duty, or don't perform it to his satisfaction, he makes me light a fire in his room, and stand in front of it in just my school shirt and white socks.
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Jan 21, 2010
Jan 19, 2010
Mommy Pam emphasizes our slight age difference by dressing in furs with jewelry dripping off her. She's only an inch taller than I am in her stocking feet but increases this difference with dangerously high heels. Her hair done up and make-up impeccable, Mommy Pam defines sophistication. Meanwhile, I'm in t-shirt and jeans, portraying the dutiful, if not bratty, son out for a shopping trip.
We shop for the afternoon at the high-end mall. She takes me from store to store. I stand outside the dressing rooms, holding her purse. She models outfits that make my mouth water (and my penis hard). When we took a break for lunch Mommy makes to order for me, and wipes my face with her napkin when I leave a little ketchup on my chin.
We go to Victoria's Secret where Mommy Pam teases me, holding up lingerie to herself. I picture how her voluptuous body would look wearing the tantalizing tidbits. She surprises me when she holds one of the teddies up to me instead.
"Hmmm, this may be a little snug. We'll have to go with the next size up," she says, holding up another one. I feel my cheeks go hot with a blush. I try to nonchalantly look around the store to see if anyone can see us. My eyes lock onto those of a sales clerk who muffles a giggle with the back of her hand. I smile nervously, trying to pass it off as Mommy Pam just being a jokester. That doesn't fly, especially when Mommy Pam turns to the girl and shouts across the store, "Where can we try these on?"
Not wanting to miss a moment, the girl comes to us and with a "right this way, Ma'am," leads Mommy Pam and I to the dressing rooms where she unlocks a cubicle for us. Her feet remain visible under the door as Mommy Pam tells me to strip. She watches as I remove my boy clothes and slide myself into the teddy. It's pink with white ruffles along the edges. It plunges deep along my chest and Mommy Pam adjusts the cups over my shaved chest, scratching her long red nails over my nipples as she does.
I can't help but moan. I see the salesgirl's feet shuffle under the door. Mommy Pam slides a hand down the front of the teddy to feel the tiny bulge in the crotch.
"Well I just have to buy this for you. You've made a little mess in them," she says, feeling the wet spot where my pre-cum had gone through the thin satin.
She stands back, looking down at me and nodding with approval. "Put your clothes back on," she commands.
When I go to take off the teddy she shakes her head. "Put your boy clothes on over it, baby. I want you to feel it on your skin."
She picks up my underwear and puts them in her purse saying, "You won't need these."
Before I have my shirt completely over my head Mommy Pam opens the door to the dressing room, giving the salesgirl a good look at me.
She follows Mommy Pam to the register where I quickly join them. Mommy Pam reaches under my shirt and pulls the tag off the teddy to hand it to the salesgirl. "This is all for today," she says.
I hand Mommy Pam her purse and she pays. Her hand lingers on the salesgirl's when she passes her a credit card. The two share a moment and the girl begins to blush as she continues to ring Mommy Pam up. Before we go, Mommy Pam gives the girl one of her business cards. Something tells me that I'll be seeing her again.
Victoria's Secret is on the end of the mall farthest from the exit and Mommy Pam's car. The walk proves excruciating as I feel the satin massaging my skin with every step, every movement. I continue to carry Mommy Pam's purse for her and this helps add to the feeling of submission that the lingerie exacerbates. I feel weaker--not necessarily physically but mentally--with every passing second.
By the time we reach Mommy Pam's BMW, I feel drained. I open the door for her before getting in. She drives us back to her house where, when I come in, I know to strip down to my under things. I'm not allowed to be a big boy at Mommy Pam's house.
She tells me to go up to her bedroom and wait. When she joins me she's in a robe. It's tied at the waist and I imagine what her body must look like underneath. She tells me that I've been a good boy for her. "You must be tired, baby boy, after shopping with Mommy all day," she cooed, sitting down on the edge of her bed.
I nod vigorously, not really tired but following Mommy Pam's gist.
"Then get up here, baby boy," she said, patting the bed.
I climb up and go to lay next to her. "No, baby," she says. "Mommy needs a foot rub first. She's been on her feet all day long."
She wiggles her bare toes. I crouch down on the bed, taking her left foot in my hand, feeling the curve of her sole, admiring the red nail polish that matches her fingernails and lipstick. Always so chic!
I caress her foot before putting some force in my fingers to massage deeply.
She picks up a book, Baby, What Do You Want Me To Do. As soon as she puts voice to the words my teddy tents. I love Mommy Pam's voice -- even when she's correcting me -- but when she reads bedtime stories to me, it's rapturous. Her words flow like honey over me, making me feel warm down below my tummy.
She raises up her foot and I begin kissing each of her toes. One after another. I start as I feel her other foot press against the front of the teddy, my penis beneath her sole. This makes me kiss her toes with vigor, taking them into my mouth. I lick her sole, I caress her heel, I run my tongue between her toes and take the biggest one into my mouth, suckling on it.
She tells me a story about a sissy being controlled by a powerful woman. I can relate as I worship Mommy Pam's foot. She stops me and switches feet, allowing me to massage the other foot. I push my thumbs against the ball of her foot as she pushes against my crotch again.
I imagine that my hands can help relieve Mommy Pam of stress, picturing little waves of relaxation moving up her long legs. I follow her legs to her robe and wonder what she has on under it. Perhaps an outfit similar to mine? In all the years I've known Mommy Pam, I've never seen her naked. She's always remained covered.
She places her foot near my mouth again, allowing me to suckle her toes once more. I suck them the way she's taught me to suck on her strap on. At one point I open my mouth and take in all five of her toes, running my tongue as far down her sole as I can. She wiggles her toes as I close my lips around her foot and suck.
When she slides her foot out of my mouth, I feel empty. She pauses her reading briefly to pat the bed next to her. I cuddle up close. I feel so small, placing my head under her arm, resting my head on her shoulder and chest, watching the swell of her breasts as she breaths and continues reading to me.
I shift and I accidentally rub up against her, sending a shudder to my core. I hold my breath a second and rub against her again, the satin of my teddy gently caressing her leg. Her voice never falters. I rub up against her again, the underside of my satin-covered penis sliding across her pale, smooth leg. The pleasure makes my eyes roll back in my head.
She continues reading. The story transplants me into another world while the pleasure from Mommy Pam's leg grounds me in reality. I keep rubbing against her, slowly, gently, like drawing a mezzo piano bow across a violin.
I mold my body tighter to hers. With my left ear I listen to her heartbeat, with my right the story. All the while I'm sawing my erection across her thigh, my arms wrapping around her, pulling myself tighter to her.
I'm humping her leg like a dog.
Suddenly, Mommy Pam stops reading. I freeze.
"Oh, no, please continue," she says without a hint of sarcasm.
She reaches to the lapel of her robe and slides it aside revealing the white brassiere holding her bountiful boobs in place. She lifts the right cup. I stare in wonder at the pale skin, the brown nipple. "Go ahead, baby, you know what to do," she says.
I lock my lips over her nipple and begin humping her leg in earnest. She runs a finger behind my ear as she returns to the story.
Her nipple stiffens as I begin suckling at it. I test to see how hard I can suck it. If I can use teeth or only lips. Mommy Pam reacts a bit to my teeth... in a positive way. My erection stretches out the front of my teddy as far as the fabric will allow.
The action in the book begins to reach a climax and I feel one coming on as well. Mommy Pam begins interjecting little bits of encouragement as my hips move faster and faster. She likens me to the sissy in the story. I suck at her nipple harder.
I find that I'm losing control and know that I'm closing in on an orgasm. Around her nipple I ask, "Mommy, may I cum?"
She pauses before answering, "Well, you were a good boy today, holding Mommy's purse while we shopped. And you do look so pretty in your teddy."
The pressure continues to build. I can't control it now. My cock saws against her leg madly.
"And you gave Mommy such a nice foot rub," she continues. "Yes, my darling baby boy. You may cum for me, but you mustn't cum in your teddy. You may cum on my leg..." I quickly free myself from the constraining material. "...But you will have to clean it up," she says. This extra twist of humiliation pushes me over the edge. I lose control of myself, my penis letting go of my spunk as my body shudders with an intense explosion. All the while Mommy Pam coos, "Good boy, oh, what a good boy he is."
I lay there, my mouth still attached to Mommy Pam's breast as the last few drops of spunk drip onto her soft skin.
Without being told, I slide down her body and lap up the pool that's collected on her thigh. "That's a good boy," she says, "Clean it all up for Mommy."
She finishes the story, stroking my head while I clean her off. When I'm done I wrap my arms around her legs and fall into a sleepy stupor, enjoying that I'm my Mommy's good boy.
Jan 13, 2010
Repositng from FetLife...
If you've ever written an erotic work, we can help you find a new audience! We're currently looking for new literary content for a new show that will be premiering on The TrainREK Media Network after it's May 1st launch. The station is built by kinky people, for kinky people. Upon sending us your stories, our talented voice actors will read them on the air. Authors will be given full credit, and we can even promote your blog or website.
What kind of erotic stories are we interested in? The answer is...ALL KINDS! It can be of any length! They can be true stories, fantasies, themed stories(medieval, sci-fi, western, etc). They can be classy romance stories(as long as there's some sexual content), or they can be downright raunchy! Our listeners will love it all!
If you'd like to submit your story please send an email to email@example.com with the following content:
- your story attached as either an .rtf or .doc file
- your name(however you want to be credited on the air)
- links to your website or blog if you wish>
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